


Summertime Sadness

by lynnthere_donethat



Series: Wheeling Through the Midnight Streets - TDAU [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 4 drabbles in 1!, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Carnivals, Gen, Minor Injuries, Past Child Abandonment, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, TDAU, Teenage Disasters AU, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnthere_donethat/pseuds/lynnthere_donethat
Summary: Four minature drabbles and stories in one fic.1- Bad and Skeppy take the group to a carnival (Dream's Sophomore Year)2- Summer in the Quarry (The summer before before Half Past Three, How Are You)3- Dream has a breakdown and gets comforted by his friends (A month or so before Half Past Three, How Are You)4- Quackity and the Abandoned Lot (A month after Quackity started his Sophomore Year)
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sam | Awesamedude & Everyone
Series: Wheeling Through the Midnight Streets - TDAU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058816
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	Summertime Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings-   
> 1- No warnings apply  
> 2- minor injuries, hurt/comfort, slight suicidal implications  
> 3- underage drinking, past child abuse, childhood neglect, vomit hurt&comfort, platonic kisses and relationships  
> 4- underage smoking, general angst, past childhood trauma
> 
> * any of the actions in this fic are not meant to represent the creator's and their real lives and pasts. this is fiction for the sake of fiction.

It was rare for events to come to town. Southwood had the carnival that swept through every few years, and the suburb was known for holding festivals and parades around the holidays. When your friends barely make 200 bucks per pay period, all you really can afford is to do stuff locally.

This was the case for Phil and his army of misfit teenage disasters- who’ve become extended sons and daughters in a way. Phil wasn’t sure how this ground came to be, with the multiple and various, sometimes conflicting personalities but he knew that his sons cared for these friends, and so he did too. They meshed the way socks and sandals on white people in the early 2000’s did- it didn’t make a lot of sense and a lot of people would mock them for it later. Phil knew that they didn’t care though, because when nothing in your life amounts to anything, you learn to not give a shit. He disregarded that sentiment though. This group was composed of very talented and well-meaning kids. They just needed some direction in life.

\----  
  


After saving some cash from their shitty jobs, Skeppy and Bad surprises everyone with a trip to a festival the next town over. One that Southwood wasn’t celebrating, but the carnival was participating in the festival and was boosting sales. After several, long calls and text threads they purchase tickets and make a day. During the fall break of school, the festival was being held. Apparently the school was celebrating Homecoming that week as well, so the town was all dressed up. Southwood had already had their homecoming game and dance, but this was combined with the festival.

They eat lots of food, and have a ton of fun watching the acts and just being with each other. Plenty of carnival games were played, and rides were ridden. Many families avoid the group, with their ripped jeans, some piercings and a couple stick and poke tattoos peeking underneath shirts or in the holes of their jeans, but they pay no mind. They hold hands to stay together and stay until well after dusk, before leaving for the night, high off the experience. 

Phil leaves them in good faith of his sons and allows them the joy of being kids. No responsibilities and no consequences until tomorrow. They crash at Dream’s empty house, and sneak a bottle of wine to enjoy. The night is loud and their laughs and hollers bounce around the huge house, as they chase each other around and drunkenly make stupid bets.

Soon after, they crash, laying in a messy entanglement of arms, legs, hair and bodies- with stupid grins on their faces.

* * *

Summers are always hot, humid and full of fun times at the quarry. The rocks are hot, and burn their feet and legs, and the water is cold to the bone. Tubbo can’t swim surprisingly and Dream hasn’t been sleeping well, so they lay together under the shady overhang watching the bodies of the other’s fall into the water as they rope swing off. The sheer limestone walls glisten with the splashes of their friends and Dream and Tubbo happily judge each dive and drop. Dream calling them out with loud cheers, and Tubbo drawing in the gravelly sand with a stick nearby.

Tommy’s the most enthusiastic, joining Purpled with making the biggest splashes and trying to see who’s splash lands the highest on the rock wall. 

George and Alyssa stop after a couple jumps, choosing to just wade in the water and relax under the sun. Before long, they joined together to spell stuff out with rocks and flowers. They watch as Sam readies up for a big jump. He runs up and jumps out to grab the rope swing, but misses by an inch and tumbles into the rocky shore. It’s happening too quickly and then there’s the yelling. 

They react quickly. Bad hurries over with a first aid kit, while Techno pulls off his shirt to bandage any cuts and Punz and Dream jumped down to already pulling him out and looking him over for damage. Dream let’s Tubbo sleep, knowing he just fell asleep from the lazy heat - he’d find out soon enough and the blond goes to console Sam. 

He’s okay, with no broken bones- just a couple cuts and a lot of bruising. He’s crying into Bad’s chest as he holds him and strokes his hair. Techno has finished tying strips of his shirt around the cuts, with the help of Sapnap and his pocket knife. The bandages have already turned red under the strips of cloth. They glance around, hoping that they were wrong to assume that Sam missed the rope on purpose.

* * *

Dream is alone- no shocker there. He’s used to it by now. Coming home everyday to that huge and empty house. No maid or butler to be found. He makes it thirty steps into the foyer before his facade crumples. It was a test he took everyday- How Long Before I Cry?

He felt wrong, he felt betrayed and he felt so alone. Bad, Skeppy and Ant worked after school, and often late into the evening. Nearly everyone had plans of some sort after school, especially in the autumn time. George and Sapnap, while they were super close, were often forced to go home before spending time with friends. Over the years, they had gotten more and more strict with each passing year. 

He knew he couldn’t and that he shouldn’t rely on his best friends to always be there, but he hated this house. He hated the echoes he heard with every step he took on that granite foyer. He wanted a house like Sapnap’s or even Techno’s, that was small and comfortably cosy. He knew that he was lucky his parents could afford this house, but at what cost? They are never home, and Dream knew better to voice his opinion about it. It only took one “meeting” to realize that he either kept his damn mouth shut, or have a significantly shorter life span.

Dream also knew that he couldn’t complain about it- with Quackity and Purpled living with their relatives because their parents couldn’t handle having a kid, or Callahan’s outwardly abusive father, who never laid a hand on Callahan, except once. He yearned for the loving family Wilbur and Techno had, with their ever doting father. The life of a single father was hard, and with three sons it was certainly not easy. But Phil never complained, never denied his son’s on their various whims. 

Compared to his other friends, Dream had it good, but he also knew that he was suffering silently. Too many nights crying at home, screaming obscenities while drunk and even taking a car for a spin while intoxicated had left his metal state at an all time low. He felt his pocket buzzing with texts from his friends, but he ignored them. With mounting expectations and stress of school, he dragged his feet as he walked towards his bedroom. He sighed, the empty feeling coming again and he cuddled into his blankets. He grabbed a bottle from his hidden stash and broke the seal, before straight up drinking it from the bottle- the burn distracting him from the emptiness. Laying against his headboard, a bottle loosely held between his hands he contemplated existence. He sighed, as the buzzing on his phone increased, indicating someone was calling. He picked up, and a slurred “Hello?” came out, sounding more along the lines of “hellur”.

“Dream? You okay man?” George’s voice asked, coming over the phone.

“Yeah man, I’m fine.” He said, not a care in the word, the alcohol causing the words to slur together. He had drunk about half the bottle in the time between shuffling up the ornate staircase and the call from his friend.

“You sure? You don’t sound too good man.” George asked, concern showing in his worried tone.

“I’m fine, George. Don't worry about me.” Dream said, dragging the “fine” out while waving his hand around, and ended the call. He took a swig and took off his shirt, clumsily and began to walk around his house. His eyes watered with the burn that came with every swig he took, a hand grasping at the wall to steady him. He made it downstairs and collapsed on the couch, immediately falling asleep as soon as his head hit the cushions.

\----

A couple hours later, Dream woke up to the sound of a click to the door, and he shot up, before hissing under the pounding headache he was experiencing. The room spun for a moment too long and he swore under his breath. He feared his parents were home for once, and knew that if they saw him passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, he’d get another one of his father’s “meetings” that never ended well. With each year, the meeting’s had gotten less and less physical with his father’s age, but they held the same weight to them. The berating words, and the belittling vocabulary used dealt the same amount of pain onto Dream as a belt, or his hands had.

He scrambled away to his room and hid the bottle, making sure it was covered. He looked over himself, seeing a trail of drool on his chin, and he began rubbing at it, trying to get rid of the evidence, before becoming nauseous. Running to the bathroom, before his stomach emptied in the toilet bowl. His throat burned as all the whiskey left his stomach the way it came down and he coughed as more came up. Retching a little more, before a hand rubbed his back, and someone began pulling his hair away from his face. 

He shuddered as the feeling lingered, and he slumped on the toilet bowl, energy completely drained as the adrenaline left and he was left in a sobbing mess, feeling two pairs of arms surround him. He clumsily wiped his mouth, and someone dabbed a wet towel around his mouth, before pulling him into their chest. Eyes shut with pain, he clung onto the soft material and felt someone petting his hair, and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“Shh, it’s okay Dream. Just let it out.” He heard George’s soft voice whisper. He felt his lip tremble before another sob broke out and he fell into the other person’s shoulder.

Once he calmed down a little, Dream sat back up, to see Puffy’s soft smile and he saw the big wet spot he left on the black shirt she wore. She must’ve just gotten off of her swim practice, since her hair was up in the tight bun she kept it in, and the loose sweats she wore. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his hand, and became really quiet.

“You okay buddy?” George asked softly, his hand still rubbing circles in Dream’s back.

“Not really, what time is it?” He asked.

“7:30.” Puffy answered, her hand raising to pet his cheek, and wipe some tears away. She still wore the sad smile she always had when she watched her friends in pain.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and we will stay with you.” Puffy said. She wiped Dream’s face clean of lingering tears and stood up. Helping and pulling Dream up, she slung an arm around his waist, and gave him support when he tilted, still unsteady from the exhaustion. George started the water for a shower and Puffy gave Dream a soft kiss on the cheek, before letting him shower in peace, heading into Dream’s bedroom, while he showered. George began to pull some soft clothes out for Dream, after his shower and noticed that Puffy seemed fidgety and uncomfortable.

“You good Puffy?” He asked, rooting through drawers to find Dream’s favorite pair of pajama bottoms.

“Yeah, I guess, I just don’t really know what to do.” She said, awkwardly.

“It’s okay! How about you get some hot chocolate and start a small dinner? If you need help, I’ll be up here, helping Dream, until he shoos me away.” George laughed, and started looking for pajamas again. Puffy nodded and she headed off to prepare the dinner and hot chocolate with her goal in mind- Make Dream Feel Better. She pursed her lips and decided to save herself some trouble and called her best friend, Niki for some help. Pulling up FaceTime, she called the girl and quickly explained the situation. 

Niki was more than helpful in preparing a small meal, and even arrived before it was done to help out.

\----

After Dream showered, he towel dried off and found some pajamas on his bed, with George louding on his bed, phone in hand. The brunet looked up, as he entered the bedroom and gave a soft smile. Allowing Dream to change quickly, he shielded his eyes- much to Dream’s amusement. The bathroom door clicked close after some shuffling.

“You can look now, George.” Dream teased. Huffily, George dropped his hand and looked Dream up and down.

“You feel better?” He asked in a slight bitchy tone. Dream silently nodded, and George sighed before swinging his legs over the edge and walking up to Dream. When he was in front of the blond, George reached out and grabbed his hands.

“I know I’m not good at this physical contact like Sapnap is, but you can talk to me. We’re best friends Dreamie, so what’s going on in your head?” He asked, brown eyes wide in concern. The blond smiled softly and squeezed his hands, before bringing him into a hug.

“That only works on Sam, and you know it.” He said, smiling lightly.

“Well, I got what I wanted, right?” He asked smugly, and Dream laughed for the first time in a while. With the smaller burnet in his arms, Dream squeezed him closer, nuzzling into soft brown hair and allowed them this tender moment.

“I love you Georgie.” He said, and the brunet rolled his eyes and pat Dream’s back, albeit a little awkwardly.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Dream said and George left to help Puffy with dinner.

\----

He watched him go, forever thankful to have George in his life, because he knew just how to make him feel better, even at his lowest. He glanced around the room briefly before heading down to the living room, knowing that Puffy had made some food, from the heavenly smell.

It was light and it was delicious- just a simple angel hair pasta dish with roasted garlic alfredo sauce. Niki had given him a tight hug and reprimanded him for worrying them. They had the pasta and hot chocolate, and lots of cuddles and hand holds, casual reassurances and watched some movies. The dusk became night and the cuddles became snuggles.

They laid in a pile on Dream’s floor, just talking casually, before Dream started to talk about what happened earlier. They only listened, and occasionally ran their fingers through his hair or squeezed his hands in support, as he explained the emotions he was going through. After Dream’s tirade, they forgave him.

“There’s nothing you guys could’ve done. I know you guys have your own lives, I just wish I didn’t feel like this.” Dream said, frowning.

“I’m sorry for not coming over sooner, Dream.” Puffy said, feeling like she had let down her friend and somewhat of an older brother.

“No, don’t say that! You didn’t do anything wrong, I know this is all kinda new and weird for you. C’mere.” Dream said, holding his arms open and letting Puffy crawl into them. Dream gave her a soft kiss on top of her head and hugged him tightly. Niki smiled and she snuggled up. Dream smiled and quickly pulled her in as well.

“Life’s pretty shitty to us, but hey, we’ve got each other, in darkness and light.” George said softly and he hugged the tall blond from behind, and they smiled, feeling content- all worries silenced at the serene peace of the moment.

* * *

It’s nights like these where the empty lots called to Quackity. He couldn’t sleep, his uncle was passed out and nobody was awake. The hours between 3am and 5am are usually the toughest and the loneliest for Quackity. His demons awoke and they traumatized him nightly. He used to have vivid nightmares of his brothers and father that made him scream, and cry that his uncle was always woken up to soothe him. Now, he rarely slept, staying awake by pure spite and the occasional caffeine pill and redbull.

Right now, he skated around the lot, the lights casting long shadows and he didn’t care. A zip from his supplier sat in his navy blue hoodie pocket and a lighter he tagged with “I wonder if Life Smokes after it Fucks Me” written in a faded sharpie. The lettering was rubbing off from the mindless fidgeting Quackity often did. The lighter sat in his hoodie pocket with the zip and a blunt hung from his fingers, the tip glowing dully. He maneuvered the board lazily throughout the empty lot and blew smoke, creating a pattern in the cold night air.Sighing heavily, he let the board roll to a stop before hopping off. Leaning down, Quackity grabbed the board and walked to a wall, where his canvas backpack sat, contents strewn around.

No one was around, so who cared. Sitting down, Quackity pulled out a notebook and began writing. This was his coping method- writing. He wrote songs, wrote poems, wrote facts he learned from Mock Trial and Debate Team meets, and wrote down stories and memories from his friends. This was his therapy and didn’t care how nerdy it sounded. Sometimes he would sketch and doodle in the margins of his writings.

Right now- he wrote about his day. How it started, what classes he didn’t sleep through, a couple interesting facts he learned, what he did with her friends in each class, jotted down a couple of his favorite complaint texts from Tommy- the middle schooler lighting up his phone with complaints. 

He wrote about his uncle chewing him out about his falling grades and how he retaliated by saying he didn’t care. He had sighed, and Quackity had taken the time to escape to his room. While in his room, Quackity decided to smoke, not caring if his uncle found out. He also redecorated a bit, changing his furniture around and plucking at his guitar. Finishing the entry, Quackity scribbled out some melancholic thoughts, yearning for a normalcy that he would never be granted. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Quackity checked his phone. Nothing. Group Chat? Nothing. Social Media? Nothing interesting. With a long, drawn out groan, he laid down, watching the skies dance and warp, watching the stars twinkle and shine, wishing to be among them. The view was disturbed by the buzzing street lamps which illuminated the lot, but he felt his eyes begin to droop. Despite the chilly night, the warmth of his hoodie and the haze from his blunt sent him tumbling into a fitful nap.

Taking a last drag from the blunt, Quackity smushed the end out and allowed sleep to take him away. He knew he would wake up in time to sneak back into his uncle’s place before he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you all enjoyed! if i missed any warnings, please feel free to let me know and I'll make sure to fix the tags asap!


End file.
